Apr 6, 2008

One thing about me, I love "When Animals Attack!" films. There isn't nothing I like more than watching a stupid teenage whore spray No-Tear baby shampoo in a giant python's eyes. When I saw the various posters for Razortooth, I expected this to be a shitty film, albeit a grand one with misplaced scenes of action. A film that I can take to get together's and laugh out loud about. Boy, was i wrong.

Despite the amazing covers, this film is rotten. When the opening credits rolled through, I saw the directors name was Patricia. This horrified me for some inexplicable reason. Patricia is a name that gives me great grief. It singularly solidifies the fact that women are spawn to god awful names.

In the beginning of the film, we have a couple of escaped convicts escaping jail. How quaint. This duo in terror slip by a police scouting unit that eventually is all slaughtered by a giant piranha-eel hybrid that looks fucking stupid. The funny thing about this is, the monster doesn't eat them. What kind of creature kills for sport besides an Alien bounty hunter?

We then see the main character; some pompous asshole animal control worker who stares at a wedding ring laying on the counter in front of a wedding picture. I wouldn't have guessed, but due to the somber effect of the heartfelt music, my guess was that he had split with her. After hiding his anguish by playing the harmonica (Blues stereotype), he sets out to be annoying around town, playing the harmonica. After 5 minutes of him playing it, I wanted to reach through the screen and shove it up his ass.

We meet his ex-wife, the only attractive female in the film, and she is the Sheriff. The entire film plays off on local fears of having an exotic creature ruining the cycle of life in a small country town. A similar incident happened very close to where I live. Creatures called "Snakeheads" were running around on land, eating all the fish and disrupting the order of balance. This film, being based on the swamp, is lush with type-casting, such as the pregnant trailer park beauty queens and the sickeningly obese chicken obsessed redneck who farts and giggles.

About 1 hour and 10 minutes through the film, I literally felt sickened. I developed a high fever and had to sleep it off. This similar experience is what became of me after viewing Mondo Collecto. I think I am allergic to horrible displays of cinematic trauma. At about 1 hour and 20 minutes in, I passed out asleep in the living room. I woke up, not viewing the ending, but I can honestly say that I am glad I missed it. Perhaps I could have been one of the many fatalities displayed in this movie. Razortooth is god-awful.

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SS is a postmortem Occidental Sinema site led by two admittedly vicious Nordish libertine cinephiles. We ruthlessly, yet charmingly rip at the bowels of the prissy populous PC-beast; offering the more discerning reader a piece of our eclectically refined minds and our uncompromisingly distinct weltanschauungs. At Soiled Sinema, we believe in cinematic diversity and equal-opportunity film criticism. Do yourself a favor by allowing us to gouge at your Hollywood-lobotomized gray matter, as we have a pleasant plethora of svelte and seminal writings on films we have come to wholeheartedly and fanatically cherish, as well as expertly diagnosing loathsome cinematic abortions worthy of total celluloid deterioration.